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Mmm. His muscles felt good doused in water.
As they scanned the area, strands of his semi longish hair twined with hers. A lovely, mesmerizing sight she enjoyed far too much. But oh, how she adored seeing something of hers connected to someone else.
She forced herself to look away. Her gaze snagged on iridescent mermaid tails. Bingo! She tapped Rathbone and pointed.
The king flashed her again. They reappeared between the mermaids. He elbowed both females aside without hesitation, reached out with his free hand, and snatched the skull.
Awe lit his features. Triumph pulsed from him. He flashed a third time, whisking Neeka to the doorless throne room. They dripped icy water all over the marble floor.
“You owe me a boon,” she said after sucking in a mouthful of air.
“It’s yours with my compliments.” He released her, bounded up the dais steps and approached the smaller throne, where he dropped to his knees. Determination converted into supreme satisfaction as he slowly, reverently, anchored the skull in its proper place.
Just like that, Neeka toppled straight into a new vision. Images blasted her mind, each a tornado of revelation. She viewed the harpy throne room, with Lore’s golden seat affixed in the center, ripped from its former residence. Saw the gloriously handsome Astra named Azar kneel before the skeleton as Rathbone had done and adhere the final piece into place. Watched as muscle and skin developed, a gorgeous brunette with baby blues and pale skin appearing. She was naked.
The goddess smiled slowly and stretched, and oh, wow. No wonder Rathbone was obsessed. The chick oozed raw sex appeal.
The remaining Astra and their harpy consorts observed the proceedings with trepidation, while Erebus bubbled over with glee.
Rathbone stood among the group—in chains. There was no sign of Neeka. Why?
The freshly formed beauty smiled at her audience. “Hello, Rathbone. Chains suit you.” Her smile grew as she addressed the others. “Azar is my puppet, and soon, the rest of you will be food.” She soaked up their reactions. Everything from rage to uncertainty. “Let’s give them a preview of the feats to come, Azar. Bow before me.”
The masses quieted, awaiting the warlord’s reaction. Expecting him to erupt.
But Azar sank to his knees. “Do not do this,” he whispered to the goddess. “Please, do not.” Dark irises beseeched her.
For the briefest blip, Lore seemed to soften. Then she snapped, “No one asked for your commentary.”
Rathbone fought his confinement, shouting, “I love you! There’s got to be another way. Please.”
“Shut up,” Lore muttered, rubbing her temples. “Just shut up. I can’t concentrate, and I need to concentrate.” Glaring at Azar, she demanded, “Cut out his tongue.”
The Astra rose, crossed the distance, and obeyed, then returned to toss the tongue at her feet.
Ouch.
“That’s better,” the goddess breathed out. “Only a few minutes remain until your defeat is assured. We’ll wait out the clock before I continue with the festivities.” And yet, less than sixty seconds later, she crooked her finger at the Astra. “Azar.”
He stiffened. “You want your kiss now.”
“Why not? I’m bored.”
“It didn’t have to be this way.” He lunged, cupping her nape with bloody hands and melding his lips to hers. She froze, as if stunned. Then she kissed him back. The two feasted on each other as if they’d waited lifetimes for the chance, and they’d never get another.
Ultimately, he recoiled. But he didn’t move away. He studied his hands. His glittering palms. The same shimmer covered her cheeks.
Neeka gasped with shock. Stardust! Something an Astra produced for his fated mate, and only his fated mate. But Lore belonged to Rathbone.
Didn’t she?
The goddess scowled at the Astra before kicking him in the chest. “Don’t do that again.”
“You are... mine,” he croaked.
“Why are you hesitating, Azar?” the Astra Commander shouted. “Kill her!”
Azar paid his leader no heed. Fisting and unfisting his hands, he kept a hungry gaze on the goddess. “You are mine,” he repeated with authority. And warning.
